


Vacation?

by Thrawnduil



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Senpai gave me permission, Serious Injuries, Tauntauns, Thrawntaun, Torture (attempted), also her and nspamc's headcanon, depictions of violence, they allowed me to play with their stuff, white_rainbow's character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13325976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrawnduil/pseuds/Thrawnduil
Summary: Thrawn and Veers had planned to enjoy a quiet ride on their tauntauns, but even on vacation their past comes back to haunt them.





	Vacation?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Find Me...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742426) by [White_Rainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow). 
  * Inspired by [Find Me...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742426) by [White_Rainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow). 



> This oneshot is based on a story [White_Rainbow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow) wrote or rather two of her wonderful stories. Kloven and by proxy his brother are her creation as is the background of my attempt to spin the tale further. I seriously recommend checking out her [works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/works) especially [Find Me...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11742426) and ["Our Max..."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12104829) in case of the character of Kloven. Rainbow and [Nspamc](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nspamc) are also responsible for one of the most adorable headcanons: Eli and Yogar having a tauntaun ranch and among them a tauntaun Yogar named Thrawntaun! A headcanon they allowed me to use here as well and I can only hope they won't regret it. 
> 
> Technically this is supposed to be for the first prompt of the Thrawn Appreciation Week, but it took me forever to write so here we are a bit late to the party.

The monotony of the icy wasteland was broken by the sight of two tauntaun riders making their way up the ridge of a small plateau. Once they had reached the top, they stopped for a moment, giving their mounts a short break while they took in the sight over the frozen desert beneath. “This is amazing”, the first rider said, after lifting the scarf that protected his mouth and chin. “No wonder you like the ice and snow. It looks absolutely stunning.” - “Wait until you get your first frostbite, Max, then you’ll change your opinion quickly”, the second rider replied, though his voice was full of mirth. “Oh I don’t worry about frostbite. You’ve packed me up like a bantha with these scarves and gloves and jackets, I doubt I could even catch a cold like this Thrawn. Come on race you to the next plateau!” With a hoot Max took off on his tauntaun, leaving Thrawn to follow in barely concealed laughter. 

Max had been right. It was actually nice to spend a few days on vacation, relaxing for a change. Thrawn and Veers had been invited by Eli and Yogar to spend their vacation at the tauntaun ranch the two ran. Max had jumped at the idea, promptly asking Orson and Wilhuff if they would like to join them as well, making it sort of a family vacation. Young Armitage, who had somehow become Thrawn’s charge, was also taken on the trip and the chiss remembered fondly how the boy’s eyes had lit up at the mention of seeing his best friend “Phel” again. On the second day of their visit, Eli and Yogar had taken the kids aside to give Thrawn and Max a chance for some alone time, which turned out to be a tauntaun ride over the northern plains. Max had found it hilariously that they owned a tauntaun named Thrawntaun and even though Thrawn did not show it, he felt strangely honored that Lyste had named his tauntaun after him. And of course Max immediately insisted on taking Thrawntaun for the ride, claiming that Thrawn could not sith on a mount that was named after him. After a three-hour ride with occasional breaks they had almost arrived at the halfway point of their tour and the plateau Max had indicated should be the final location they wanted to see before returning to the ranch.

Thrawn’s tauntaun suddenly crumbled underneath him, ripping him from his ruminations and hurling him brutally from his mount’s back. Thrawn couldn’t react in time to protect his fall and there was a sickening crunch as he landed on the snow-covered rocks. For a moment he was stunned by the fall, his breath punched from his lungs. When he finally got his bearings he tried to roll over on his back to see what had happened. It was a bad decision, causing him to scream in pain. He had awkwardly landed on his right arm, something had definitely broken, but on top of that he felt like someone had tried to pull the joint out of his socket. Hissing through his teeth, Thrawn looked at his shoulder, trying to see anything through the layers of thick clothing. 

Something was out of place, he could feel it. Every small movement shot daggers through the whole limb. Suddenly he became aware how quiet it was around him. Thrawn looked up, searching for Max and his tauntaun but Thrawntaun was nowhere in sight. He could make out Max, prone on the ground. Worry and fear propelled Thrawn to move, but at that moment, a figure dropped down in front of him. The sun was directly behind the stranger, blinding Thrawn’s vision as he looked up to him. “Who are you?”, he gasped. “I’m your executioner”, the man proudly declared, the distinctive shape of a rifle in his hand. Thrawn instinctively tried to bring up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. The wrong arm. Agony flared through his whole limb, enough to push him over the edge into oblivion.

The first thing he noticed when he came back to his senses was the disappearance of his jacket and tunic. He had also been moved. They were no longer outside in the freezing cold. Instead they had been brought into a cave or something alike. While it was considerably warmer than outside, the absence of his clothes still made Thrawn shiver. He was kneeling on the ground, being held in place by an armed guard at his side. He did not seem to worry about his captive taking a look at his surroundings. Thrawn could make out Max on the other side of the cave, but in contrast to himself, his love’s hands were shackled, making certain that he couldn’t attack anyone. He was seated on the ground and as far as Thrawn could see, still unconscious. 

Looking around the chiss noticed that there was hardly any equipment in sight though he did count at least fifteen people. This probably wasn’t a real base, merely a temporary camp. On the far side of the cave Max groaned quietly, slowly drifting back into consciousness. “Ah you’re awake, welcome welcome”, a voice behind Thrawn, close to his ear suddenly drawled. He resisted the urge to turn his head, waiting for the stranger to step forward instead. A tall human leisurely came forward, regarding his captive with a patronising smile. He felt like he knew him, though he could not place the man and his confusion showed. 

“I’m almost offended that you don’t recognise me. Though my dear brother did have rather unusual hair. Bright gold, a bit longer than mine.” While the man seemed to revel in his memories Thrawn tried to remember why he did indeed seem familiar. He pictured him with long, blond hair and suddenly it made sense. The deceptively soothing tone, the sardonic smirk. “Kloven”, he whispered, but his captor had heard him anyway. His smile grew and he made a little bow. 

“Not himself, I’m afraid. I’m his brother. I would say pleased to meet you, but well, I think we both know that would push it a bit far.” Thrawn gave an indignant snort, barely concealing the building rage that bubbled underneath his calm composure. “What do you want? Kloven’s long dead, your rebel group non-existent.” His words earned him a harsh slap, as Kloven’s brother briefly showed his anger before he visibly reigned himself in. “It is time to pay for your sins, you and your … lover”, he spat out, “you will be punished for killing my brother.” 

Thrawn did not bother to answer him, his gaze was fixed on Max, who had obviously woken up in time to hear the identity of their captor, a mixture of horror, fear and anger visible on his face. “Uh-uh”, Kloven’s brother admonished Thrawn with a tap against his cheek, relishing how the chiss flinched away from him. “Eyes on me. I’ll get to your lover in a bit. But for now, let me have a look at you.” - “Leave him alone you monster, I killed your brother not he. You want something you talk to me!” Max was trying to get to his feet, arms straining against the hold of the guards who had rushed over. 

“Honestly I don’t know why my brother favoured your Max so much. I’m growing tired of his voice already. Shut him up so I can talk in peace with my blue friend here.” Thrawn couldn’t hold back the enraged snarl that clawed its way out of his throat. The man’s goons immediately sprung into action, manhandling Max around until one of them managed to push a rag between his teeth, tying it tightly together. The now muffled sounds of rage did not seem to bother their captor and he turned back to Thrawn. “Now where were we? Ah right penance.”

His hand slowly stroked over his back, searching for marks on the cerulean flesh that his brother might have left. He would find dozens of them on Max’ back. The ten days he spent in the hellhole on Zaloriis left a permanent reminder of the agony his lover went through. Thrawn bit his lip to keep from squirming, the instinct to get away from the deceptively gentle touch almost overwhelming.  
“It’s rather sad that this little cave does not give us the opportunity to get some chains on the ceiling. I was looking forward to re-enact your … meetings with my brother. To help you remember him.” Thrawn could not suppress a shudder at this. Behind Kloven’s brother Max had gone quiet. He was white as a sheet, eyes glassy as he doubtlessly remembered his own time on Zaloriis.

“Sir, we ... there’s a problem”, one of his men hesitantly stepped up. He was visibly uncomfortable to interrupt Kloven’s brother, who promptly snapped an impatient: “What?” - “The cave, Sir, it’s being … overrun.” The irritation was clear on his face, as he took a step back from Thrawn. “Overrun by what?” The man cringed at the sharp tone, his eyes darting between Max and Thrawn for a moment before he looked back up. “I think you should see for yourself boss, it’s rather strange.” Kloven’s brother stared at him for a few seconds, before he muttered something about incompetent fools and stalked off towards the entrance. Two men stepped up to Thrawn in order to keep him in place, a move the chiss found absolutely ridiculous as he was hardly in any condition to move. The man who had alerted Kloven’s brother looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could do anything, his boss had already returned.

“You!”, he screamed, not caring the slightest about the mayhem that had broken loose around him. But his target was neither Thrawn nor Max. Instead he marched up to the man who had sent him to the cave entrance minutes before. “You traitor, you knew they were waiting there!” - “They have us surrounded, it’s better to surrender than being killed.” The man’s hand twitched to his blaster but he seemed too scared to actually pull it out and point it at his boss. Kloven’s brother, however, had no such qualms. 

Without hesitation he reached into his coat, grabbing the other man with one hand and pulling a small blade straight over his throat. It had barely taken a second. Finally, Kloven’s brother turned to Thrawn. The chiss was still on the ground after being dropped by his two guards, who had joined the fray. With only one good arm, he struggled to get up in time. Kloven’s brother grinned maliciously. He knew that his victim would not escape him. Thrawn had just managed to get to his knees when he was grabbed by the throat. He could see the reddened blade rising. 

Out of nowhere something slammed into Kloven’s brother, dislodging his grip on the chiss, who tumbled back to the ground. Shocked he stared at the menagerie of limbs next to him. Max, still shackled and gagged, had tackled Kloven’s brother head first with no regard for himself. Now, however, he lay on the ground beside their enemy, unmoving. Kloven’s brother cackled with glee, rising up again, his knife still clutched in his hand. “You stupid idiot. You want to die that quickly?” He turned to Thrawn. “Well I guess that means you get to watch first.” 

Thrawn tried to get up, he ignored the searing pain in his arm, as it hung uselessly at his side. He knew that he wouldn’t make it in time, that Kloven’s brother was just playing with him, ready to finish Max with a flick of his hand. But he had to at least try. A shot suddenly rang out, catching Thrawn’s attention. Kloven’s brother went down with a scream, his knife forgotten for a moment. 

At the far side of the cave in the direction of the entrance none other than Tarkin stood, his trusted hunting rifle in hand. Beside him Krennic was striding forward, the usual mirth absent from his expression. He looked positively murderous, as he stalked to Kloven’s brother who was writhing on the ground, groaning in pain. The shot had hit him in the shoulder, making him drop his knife. Rather than going for the kill Wilhuff had focused on eliminating the immediate danger and risk the knife presented. 

Before Kloven’s brother could try to pick up the knife with his other hand, Orson was beside him, kicking the knife away before he unceremoniously emptied his blaster’s clip into the man's body. The three shooter Orson carried packed enough punch to splatter blood as it hit the face of Kloven’s brother. Seeing the maniacal man die felt strangely cathartic for Thrawn. His gaze fell on Max’ still figure and with creeping fear he tried to push himself up with his good arm.

Wilhuff had caught up to them, his rifle slung over his shoulder and without further ado he took Thrawn’s arm around his shoulder, helping him up on his feet. Orson was kneeling at Max’ side, carefully rolling him onto his back. “I think he’s fine”, he said after a moment, checking his pulse. “Probably has a concussion or something like that or he got knocked out by the fall.” Thrawn breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against Wilhuff as the adrenalin that had seemed to keep him going finally left him. “Thank the maker”, he mumbled. 

“Enough of the chitchat”, Tarkin spoke up ever the practical thinker. “We need to get you back to the ranch at once, Maximilian needs to be fully assessed and your need of a bacta tank is obvious.” Thrawn merely nodded, leaning against Wilhuff, fatigue and blood loss leaving him dizzy and tired. Wilhuff exchanged a concerned look with Orson, who had managed to pick up Max, despite their difference in stature. By the time they had made it out of the cave, Thrawn was almost a dead weight on Wilhuff’s shoulder and he hurried to get him on board of their ship that was waiting in front of the cave. 

Truthfully it was thanks to Thrawntaun that they had survived. Thankfully Thrawntaun had not been shot by Kloven’s brother and had only been spooked by the noise and commotion, thus throwing Veers of his back. But the loyal tauntaun had returned to the ranch without hesitation, which promptly alerted Eli and Yogar. They had prepared themselves to go after Thrawn and Max fearing an animal attack or something alike, when Orson and Wilhuff had arrived with their ship. 

After explaining the disappearance of the couple it was decided that Eli and Yogar would stay at the ranch to watch over the kids, while Wilhuff and Orson took the ship to search for their friends. It was their luck that Kloven’s brother had been too impatient to relocate his prisoners further away. His ragtag band of criminals were neither competent nor overly loyal and one grenade took out the guards at the entrance bar one man, whom they had offered his life for distracting his leader, while they made their way into the cave. 

Looking at the chiss floating in the bacta tank, Max shuddered as he contemplated what would have happened if Tarkin and Krennic had arrived later. As it was, Thrawn had suffered an open fracture on his left radius as well as a dislocated shoulder and a case of hypothermia. Max got off easy compared to that, a severe concussion being the only thing he had to deal with. Two days. They had gotten two days of relaxation and peace. Somehow vacations and Thrawn - or Max himself for the matter - did not seem to go well together.


End file.
